


whose dust was once all fire

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [196]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Destruction, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Walkabout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain America wasn't de-thawed in time for the 2012 invasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whose dust was once all fire

**Author's Note:**

> Title: whose dust was once all fire  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Byron  
> Warnings: AU during The First Avenger; AU for everything after; post-apocalyptic  
> Pairings: Steve/Bucky  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 720  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, sleeping for 100 years

He wakes up shivering. It surprises him because he was fairly certain he'd died; he remembered hitting the ice, remembered the cold creeping in --

But he's awake and it is _so cold_. He rolls over, wincing at the pain. Everything hurts but he doesn't seem to be bleeding. It takes him three tries to reach his feet and he stumbles over to the radio, tries to call somebody. The whole thing is dead. The glass is broken and an icy wind sweeping in. 

It’s so cold. 

He knows where he went down, and he knows what direction to walk, and someone must be looking for him. He tries to scavenge what supplies he can, but everything is frozen. It takes about an hour (he thinks?) to chip his shield free and it is the only thing he takes with him when he slips out of the carcass of the plane. 

.

He does not know how long he wanders south. He walks until he must sleep; he wakes only to walk some more. He barely feels the cold anymore. He’s grown used to the hunger; he eats ice when he can’t handle the thirst. 

When he hears the aircraft, he stops. He watches it hover in the sky and then a rope is thrown down. His fingers barely work as he ties it around his middle and he’s mostly unconscious by the time he’s pulled in. 

.

He wakes up warm. He’s in a white room, dressed in white, and he’s _warm_. He’d forgotten what that felt like. 

“You’re a puzzle,” a voice says. 

He turns his head to look at the woman watching him. She’s maybe 40 with short red hair, wearing some sort of uniform. “Coulson swears you’re Captain America; her dad was a major fan. All records, of course, were lost in the invasion.” 

“Invasion?” he asks. 

She nods. “The Chitauri, the start of the Mad Titan’s attempt to reign. It failed in the end, but it tore everything apart. We’re still rebuilding.” 

That doesn’t make any sense. He looks around the room; the equipment he’s hooked up to – “What year is it?” he asks. 

The woman says, “2050.”

.

When the red-haired woman, Natasha, determines he’s no threat, they let him out. The Allies won the war, but more wars followed. Natasha’s people have a few historians who don’t mind telling him, who are trying to rerecord millennias’ worth of history. 

In 2012, aliens invaded. In 2020, while the world was still reeling, Hydra tried to massacre millions of people and nearly succeeded. Tony Stark managed to stop it, but it cost his life and about a million more. 

Steve doesn’t recognize anything anymore. He wishes he hadn’t woke up

.

He’s sitting at the edge of the Grand Canyon at dawn on March 18, 2051. Bucky would be 133 today. But Bucky died 107 years ago. 

So did Steve. 

.

On July 4, 2051 (a day that’s no longer celebrated because the USA doesn’t exist the way it did), Steve is riding a motorcycle along a highway. He knows that he could help Natasha’s people with the rebuilding effort, try to restore order – but he’s just. This isn’t his world. He _died_ for his world, and then he woke up into a frozen wasteland of a hell, and he’s done. 

He’s 133 years old but he’s only lived for 28 of them. He shouldn’t even be here.

.

He’s in Brooklyn, looking around the ruins, and he hears, “I didn’t believe her. I had to see for myself.” It’s a voice he knows better than he knows his own. 

“Wandering around the Arctic – your sense of direction was always awful,” the voice continues, but Steve can’t move. Can’t turn to see. 

Can’t be wrong. 

“Steve,” Bucky says, right behind him. “Please look at me. I have to -- _please_.”

He turns, lifts his head, and _Bucky is standing there_. His hair is longer, he’s wearing some sort of body armor, his left arm is metal… but it’s Bucky. 

“How?” he asks, reaching out to touch Bucky’s shoulder. 

Bucky’s smiling just as wide as he is, and Steve doesn’t even try to hold back the tears as Bucky pulls him into the tightest hug they’ve ever shared. 

“Fucking Hydra,” Bucky says. “Oh, fuck, Steve, you’re _alive_.” 

.

Steve’s glad he woke up.


End file.
